


Suburban Trash AU

by rustedcrimson



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustedcrimson/pseuds/rustedcrimson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cast of Penny Dreadful shoved into a modern suburban neighborhood. Fix-it fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Get Me A Machete

It was a quaint little town, a large plot of land which had been bought and urbanized by a young man who had been there far longer than his appearance would imply. At the front of the plot was a mansion surrounded by extravagant gardens, and hedges just tall enough to ensure onlookers that their presence was a nuisance.  
Down the street, to the left, was a two story house with immaculate siding and a white picket fence splattered with red stains long since scrubbed pink. Nothing inside was visible from the street, hidden by American flag curtains perpetually hanging down behind the glass. In case any additional evidence was necessary to ensure that a healthy sense of patriotism was present in the household, flags jutted out from the walls, and the side of a backyard grill could be glimpsed if one looked backwards after passing the driveway.  
Across from that was a house so thoroughly covered in plants, a lawn so unruly, walls so close to crumbling- that it was hard to believe that once a week the newspapers would disappear from their pile on the sidewalk, and a stomped down path would be visible in the waist high grass. Luminescent violets were hidden beneath the weeds, planted along the splintering sidewalk leading up to the porch. Vines wrapped around the support beams, and were arguably the only thing which kept the house from collapsing in a cloud of dust and petals.  
Beside that sat a charming little farm-house. A family with two little girls took up residence there, though a quick glance would catalog this suburban fantasy home as tragically out of place. Toys were scattered across the lawn, and the bushes were trimmed sporadically and short enough that they concealed no more than a broken sand pail.  
Across the street was a pristine single with an eerily immaculate lawn, perfectly painted fences, and flawless trim on the windows. The curtains were pulled back to reveal tables that never collected dust, chairs that never tore, carpets without the slightest trace of dirt- and yet nobody had ever seen the lawn being mown. Nobody had ever seen anyone rake the leaves away, or shovel the snow. A man appeared in the morning at the door, in a crisp blue suit, and reappeared at night, looking as sharp as he had at sunrise. Nobody knew where he went, or what he did.  
Down a winding unkempt path, a small cabin was nestled in the woods, smoke trailing from a stone chimney. Wild birds paraded around the yard, pecking at seeds and berries scattered over the thick grass.  
This sense of intrigue was enhanced by the fact that it was raining when she moved in, the rolling layers of fog pulled a misty blanket over the sleepy town. She was wearing a sundress, floral print wrapping itself around her body, head topped off with a floppy straw hat. Strands of dark hair peeked out over her pale forehead, and she wiped a bead of sweat away as she unloaded the last box from the moving truck.  
“Is that it?”  
“Yes,” Vanessa said, nodding as she watched the truck chug away, smoke trailing behind it.  
“How long before you get back on your feet?” the man asked, leaning against the powder blue fence.  
She shrugged, re-adjusting her hat, a wry grin playing upon her lips. “Such a warm welcome.”  
“This is not a hotel, Miss Ives.”  
“Miss Ives? Oh Malcolm, surely by now you ought to feel comfortable calling me Vanessa,” she said, shoving her hat into his hands and walking into the yard. She let her hair down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “The air here is so much cleaner than in the city, don’t you agree? Yes, here I can barely detect that sharp biting scent of betrayal. How lovely.”  
Malcolm grunted, lifting up the box and heading towards the house. Her lids flickered open again, watching him for a moment. Then they swept out across the street, and her gaze fell on the rundown house to their left. The grass had been trampled in a path to the road, and a faint glow, so natural that it seemed unnatural, emanated from inside.  
“Who lives there?”  
Malcolm shrugged, shoulders heavy with the weight of the box. “I don’t know, and I’d be hard-pressed to care.” He disappeared into the house for a few moments,, returning with a pie. “A man brought this by for you while you were unpacking.”  
“A man?” She paused. “From where?”  
He pointed to the violently American house down the street. “I believe he said his name was Ethan,” he added, wiping crumbs off his hands with a handkerchief.  
“Ethan,” Vanessa repeated quietly, looking at the perfectly browned crust layered over spiced apple slices. She looked up suddenly, as though an idea had struck her. “Do you have a machete?”  
There was a raised eyebrow, and a slight hesitation, but no questions were asked, and no distrust was implied.  
She hummed an old hymn as she walked, swinging the knife rhythmically as she turned left at the edge of the driveway. It had once been a very lovely house, she thought as she approached it. A near match to the one across the street, if it had been in better condition.  
She began to hack away at the vines, tugging thorns out of her dress, shaking grass out of her shoes. She stopped dead as the machete plunged into a scarlet vine that let out a curt shriek. She heard footsteps running down stairs, and watched as a face peeked out from behind the door.  
“What in God’s name are you doing!” the young man cried, squeezing out onto the porch and examining the vine which had coiled backwards, its leaves withering.  
“I thought perhaps you could use a visit.” She paused, reaching out to touch the vine. “It’s very interesting, where did you get it?”  
He picked a rusty watering can up and doused the roots in water. “I made it,” he said nonchalantly.  
“A botanist?”  
He shrugged. “I dabble.”  
Vanessa tilted her head to the side. “May I come in? Mister….?” she asked, pausing to let him fill in his name.  
“Victor. Victor Frankenstein,” he said, extending a hand. He glanced back at the vines sealing the majority of the door shut. “It would perhaps be better if you did not.”  
“Vanessa Ives.” she said, her hand meeting his. “I brought the machete for a reason.”  
“Yes,” Victor began dryly, “you made that rudely clear,” he said, pointing to the severed stems and flowers lying on the ground.  
“I wasn’t aware you had such an emotional attachment to your captors. Stockholm syndrome proves its existence once again,” Vanessa said with a slight smirk.  
“This is my work,” he said, motioning dramatically around them. “I do not much appreciate it when people destroy my work.”  
“Are you certain I can’t come in?” Vanessa asked. “I used to adore gardening. I’ve done a good amount of work with plants.”  
“Yes, killing them, it would seem.” Victor pried the door back slightly. “They might not like you. Don’t complain if you leave covered in cactus spines and poison,” he said with a shrug.  
“Who might not like me?” Vanessa asked, fingers lightly brushing against the doorframe as she pressed her way inside.  
“The plants of course. They’re quite choosy,” he murmured, fumbling with the doorknob in some attempt to close it.  
“They can think then? To what extent?”  
“Some of them. Several have the mental capacity of a toddler. Others have the capacity of a fruit fly. There’s-” He paused, tugging a twig out of his hair. “There’s a wide variety.”  
“The one that screamed?”  
Victor shook his head. “It can’t feel pain. No, that one’s more of an alarm system really.”  
“It certainly did startle me,” Vanessa said, running her hands along a wall masked by delicate pastel blossoms.  
“Don’t touch that.”  
“Why? Will it eat me? Spit toxins at me? Or-”  
“You’ll damage the petals,” Victor said, pulling her away and leading her up the stairs. The second floor was slightly less disastrous, and potted plants surrounded a set of maple wood chairs and a threadbare floral couch. Sunlight leaked in through cracks in the wall, as well as several smudged up windows, ivy leaves casting shadows in the squares of light.  
Vanessa settled down on the couch, watching Victor trim a few branches off a miniature rose bush.  
“Very impressive.”  
“Yes, I know.”  
“How long have you been doing this?”  
“A couple years. I’ve been here for five perhaps, but I used to do other things.”  
“Such as…?”  
“I’ll make tea,” Victor said, ignoring her question. “Nothing up here will hurt you,” he added as he walked back downstairs.  
He returned several minutes later with two chipped tea-cups.  
Vanessa took hers gently, setting the saucer on the coffee table in front of her. “Do you know who lives across the street?” she asked.  
“No.”  
“I’ve not met him yet, but he brought me a pie.”  
“Yes, he brings everyone pies. He throws barbecues as well.”  
“You said you didn’t know him,” Vanessa said, amused.  
“I don’t know him, I know of him,” Victor replied with a shrug. “I’ve got things to do.” He shifted his position on the couch, curling up beside the arm. “You said you’re familiar with plants.”  
“Yes.”  
“I have to collect a few specimens tonight,” he began, wrapping his fingers delicately around the handle of the cup. “I could stand for a bit more interaction, none of these plants can converse with me as of yet. Would you- like to come along?”  
She smiled, setting the cup down on the saucer. “I would love to.”


	2. A Father Of Sorts

Chapter 2

The moon hung effulgent in the sky, plumpened by the passage of time. Shadows scattered across the forest floor, the faintest twinge of silver clinging to each object. Victor’s pale skin reflected the light most brutally, and Vanessa could see the collection of inflamed veins that dwelt beneath his eyes.   
“How far have we got to walk?” she asked, removing her shoes and tilting her head back as she savored the cool soil pressing up between her toes.  
“Not far now,” Victor murmured, his gaze focused on the ground. Vanessa was near amused by the delicate gait with which he walked, toe to heel, toe to heel, as if life were a ballet.   
She pressed the back of her hand to his chest, holding him behind her. “Sh- what was that?”  
“An animal I would presume,” Victor began dryly. “We are in the woods.”  
“A very large animal,” Vanessa mused, tiptoeing towards the noise.  
“Well don’t go near it!” Victor hissed, trying to keep his voice down.  
“Oh come now Victor, you’re curious as I am.”  
“Yes- but I have learned the consequences of curiosity time and time again.” There was a flash of torment in his pale eyes, nearly undetectable. “Let’s keep moving.”  
“We’ll do no such thing,” Vanessa replied. She pressed her finger to her lips as she turned back around. “Don’t move.”  
Victor stood stark still, his back pulled tight as though the nerves had been strung upwards, pierced and held by an invisible wire. “What is it?”  
Vanessa laughed. “I’m kidding, I-” she was interrupted by a flash of dark fur and the glinting of teeth hung thick with saliva. There was a growl, and Victor dove behind her.   
“Look what you’ve done now!” he cried, cowering on the ground.   
“I don’t think it wants to hurt us,” Vanessa murmured, watching as the wolf edged closer to them. She held out her hand, palm up. The wolf pressed its nose to her fingertips, she felt a cool wetness, and then a warm one as its tongue lapped gently at her palm. It circled her a few times, sniffed at Victor, who stiffened and shook violently, and then ambled off into the forest. “See, I told you.”  
Victor puffed out his chest indignantly, pouting. “You just got lucky. We could have died.”  
She bopped him on the nose. “But we didn’t. And we got to see a lovely wolf up close. You’re welcome.”  
“I am quite done with animal specimens of any kind, plants have captured my full interest.” Frustration formed lines on his delicate face. “I had absolutely no desire to see-”  
“Oh no, it’s back!” Vanessa cried, pointing over Victor shoulder.   
He whipped around, creases released, eyes wide, movements uninhibited. “Oh God- where- where!”  
Vanessa collapsed laughing.   
“That was awfully rude,” he said sourly, pursing his lips.   
“Come on, let’s get the plants and get home, I’m getting quite thirsty.”  
“Perhaps you should refrain from talking to preserve moisture,” he said dryly.   
“You as well, that dry wit will suck all the moisture from the both of us.”  
Victor ignored her, kneeling down and brushing the dirt away from a clump of plants. “Ah, here it is.”  
“What is it exactly?”  
He dug out its roots and stuck it in a damp paper towel, shoving it into his pocket. “Not strictly speaking legal, that’s what it is. Let’s go.”   
“Is it yours?”  
“Yes, I planted it out here some time ago. I’d nearly forgotten about it.”  
They walked back to Victor’s house, and he made tea as Vanessa stretched out on the couch.  
“So, where did you live before you moved here?” he asked, leaned up against the doorframe as he stirred his tea.  
“In the city.” She stared into the tea. “I needed some country air though- a fresh start- so here I am.”  
“I used to live in Geneva,” Victor said quietly. “It was nice there. I wish I could have stayed. Circumstances are so very volatile. I miss my family.”  
“What happened to them?”  
Victor shook his head. “I did. What happened to yours?”  
Vanessa forced a smile. “I did. They didn’t much care for my- romances. I’m disowned now, you see.”  
“I’m sorry to hear it. I hope things work out for you,” he said with sincerity, sitting down next to her.  
“I hope the same for you.” She paused, getting to her feet. “I should be heading home.”  
“Oh, it’s late, just stay the night, I don’t mind, really. I don’t get many visitors.”  
“You’re sure I won’t be a bother?”  
Victor shrugged. “The plants like you. I trust them.”  
Vanessa smiled.  
They both slept upstairs, Vanessa, at Victor’s insistence, on the couch, and Victor stretched out on the floor. He had no bed, apparently. Only what had what had once been a bed, but had since become an unruly garden. She had asked to see it, hoping she could fix it up for him- she didn’t much like inconveniencing him to such an extent that he was forced onto the floor in his own home.   
Vines had crept up through the mattress, wrapping around the exposed springs. Thorns tore gashes in the fabric, leaves sprawled across the frame, spilling onto the floor, and flowers crept up the headboard. It was quite unsalvageable. He assured her that he often slept on the floor anyways, working until he passed out. She resolved to check in on him from time to time.   
They were woken by a pounding on the door, which Victor seemed to recognize. 

“I hope they’re okay,” he murmured, stumbling down the stairs, still half asleep.   
Vanessa stretched, watching from the staircase as Victor tugged the door open.   
“Victor! Victor! We saw a werewolf!” A blonde-haired girl tugged at Victor’s sleeve, her face flushed with excitement.  
“Yeah! Yeah!” a slightly younger brunette agreed with a vigorous nodding. “Sophie was so brave, she walked right up to him and touched him, he was ‘sleep so we weren’t scared.”  
Victor smiled, ruffling her hair. “That’s very nice Piper, but the two of you should be getting to school, I don’t want your parents to be cross with me again.”  
“We haven’t got school today!” Sophie exclaimed, rushing into the house.   
“Teachers are too busy to teach!”   
“So this- werewolf- what did he look like?” Victor asked, deciding to humor them.  
“He was all wolfy and brown and scary- and he was ‘sleep on the sidewalk, and Sophie was gonna pet him, but then he got all loud and screamy, and all of a sudden he was a person, and so Sophie got him a blankety, cause it’s cold out and he didn’t have any clothes.”   
Vanessa narrowed her eyebrows. “A word, Victor?” she said, pulling him aside.  
“You don’t think…?”  
“I absolutely do.” She turned to the children. “Can you girls take us to where you  
found him?”  
They nodded enthusiastically and grabbed Victor by the wrists, dragging him out.  
“It was so cool Victor, wait till Mommy and Daddy hear about this!” Piper said,  
beaming.   
“Uh- maybe don’t tell Mommy and Daddy,” Victor started. “I think this should just be between us.”  
“Okey dokey!” Piper replied, still grinning.  
“Oh no!” Sophie began, running ahead. “He’s gone!”  
There was a small puddle of blood, and a few matted tufts of fur. Bloody footprints pointed towards the house across from Victor’s.   
“Should we go ask?” Vanessa whispered.  
Victor nodded. “Alright girls, why don’t you get on home.” He pretended to tape off the area. “This is a crime scene now, and we’ve got Chief Vanessa on the case! We’ll let you know what we find. Why don’t you go sketch up some pictures of the suspect?”  
They nodded and ran off back towards their house.  
“You were very good with those kids,” she mused.   
Victor shrugged. “I always wanted to be a father, of sorts.”  
Vanessa took the cold brass door knocker in her hand.  
The door creaked open, and behind it she saw a well-muscled man, still glistening from the shower, and loosely wrapped in a towel.   
“Ethan Chandler,” he said sheepishly, tightening the towel before extending a hand. “What can I do for you folks?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Would you like some pie?” Ethan asked, closing up the last couple of buttons on his shirt as he padded down the stairs. “Anything to drink?”  
Vanessa’s inquisitive eyes fell on a large lesion stretching across his palm. “Nasty scratch you’ve got there. What’s it from?”  
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Oh, cutting some potatoes, knife slipped. Happens.”  
“Mhm.”  
Victor had been standing back a few feet, looking vaguely conflicted. His fingers twitched with yearning. He gave in and strode up to Ethan, running his fingers along the man’s hand. “Fascinating,” he murmured, a fervor ignited in his eyes as they ran up and down Ethan’s body.   
Ethan pulled his hand away, much to Victor’s displeasure. “If you aren’t looking for anything in particular, would you mind heading out?” He put both hands behind his back rocking on his heels. “I’ve got some things to do-”   
Victor hid his disappointment, and cut him off. “Hide your torn up clothes? Shower again? Did you kill anyone, I wonder?”  
Ethan stiffened, and shoved his hands deep into his pocket, anxiety creeping along the lines of his eyes and forehead. “I’m not a killer.” There was the distinct waver of unease. “I’ve lived here for years, right across the street from you. You’ve not heard of any maulings around here, have you?”  
Victor shrugged, grabbing his hand again and looking lustily at the veins sliding along his wrist. “I don’t keep up with the news. Life does not particularly interest me.”  
Vanessa looked amused. “Plants are alive.”  
Victor ignored her, and began murmuring to himself, or perhaps trying to impress the surrounding company with his intellect. “There are no abnormalities in the size, shape, or pattern of your veins, your epidermis appears to be the same depth as any other human,” he stood up on his toes, “dilation is average, caruncle is indicative of a human-” he pulled at Ethan’s lips, “Gingiva are average, slightly sensitive but average- cuspids are no sharper than-”  
Vanessa pulled him away. “You’re scaring the poor man,” she said, lips tilted up in a gentle smile.   
Victor looked sheepishly at the floor. “My apologies.”  
“You know quite a bit about-” Ethan began, but was cut off again by Victor.  
“Your late night escapades?” he said, the fervor winning out over his embarrassment. “Oh, do tell me how it works, I’m dreadfully curious!”  
“I’d appreciate if the two of you would be on your way…”  
“Oh, Ethan,” Vanessa took his hand gently, “I never got to thank you for that pie. It was lovely.”  
He blushed, relaxing the tension which had wormed its way into his shoulders. “Not a problem, Miss. Neighborly things and all.”  
She cast a teasing glance at Victor. “I do apologize for Victor here, he really is quite a loner, not very well accustomed to social convention.”  
“I was simply curious,” Victor said, pouting. “I’ve never seen a werewolf before.”  
“And you still haven’t,” Ethan snapped.  
“I have too! Oh, surely you can’t stand there and deny it? It’s fact!”  
Ethan shook his head. “There are personal thing you don’t ask a man the second you meet him.”  
“I’ll ask whatever I want! Otherwise, that torturous gnawing of curiosity will torment me endlessly!”  
“Not everything’s about you, son. If y’all are willing to be civilized, we can sit down and have some pastries or pie. Otherwise, I suggest the two of you move along on your way.”  
“We’d love to stay, and I’m sure Victor will be quite civil,” she said, giving him a stern glance.  
He sighed, plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs. “It’s too early to eat.”  
Vanessa laughed. “It’s breakfast time! Past breakfast time, in fact. Brunch I suppose,” she said, glancing at the star spangled clock hanging above the sink window.   
“Breakfast,” he said with a twinge of disgust. “I hardly remember to eat dinner!”  
Vanessa raised her eyebrows, lips tilted up. “What of lunch?”  
He rolled his eyes. “Three meals a day? Yes- I can certainly manage to fit that into my schedule. I don’t know how you people get anything done eating three meals a day.”  
Ethan took Victor’s wrist in his hand. “That why you’re such a bony little mess?”  
Victor pulled his arm away. “At least I don’t go around eating people every month.”  
Ethan held Victor’s hand up to the wooden poles on the back of the chair. “No. I was wrong.” He paused. “Your wrist is thinner.”  
“Is not!”   
“Now Victor,” Vanessa began, a teasing and familial tone permeating her vocality, “I’m sure he’s just concerned about you.”  
“I’ve been here years, doing the same thing. I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s concern.”  
Ethan took Victor’s hand in his, running his fingers along the man’s knuckles. “One of these days you’ll just drop over dead, starved. And they’ll ask, ‘how long was this man dead? Must have been a while, already nothing but a skeleton.’”  
Victor looked over at Vanessa, eyes pleading. “Make him stop!”  
She smiled softly. “I think Mr. Chandler is quite entitled to insult you after your little medical escapade”  
“I was simply examining him.”  
“Without permission,” she said with a judgmental tilt of her brow.   
“I’m a doctor.”  
“Oh really?” Ethan asked. “Thought you were just an eccentric botanist. Oh- well- you could be a plant doctor I suppose. Gotta learn the trade. Watering. Fertilizing.”  
“A real doctor,” Victor said with an air of condescension. “I just- decided it wasn’t for me.”  
“Not clever enough, huh? Couldn’t memorize all those terms? Couldn’t-”  
Victor puffed himself up defensively, though it did little to make his delicate frame intimidating. “I’ll have you know I was in the top of my class! I knew more than the professors, I left because there was nothing more to learn!”  
“Ah. Kicked out because you couldn’t get your bedside manner right.”  
Victor slumped down dejectedly. “I’m brilliant, damn it. I wish I could prove it, but that could lend itself to some nasty repercussions-”  
“Oh, I’m sure we wouldn’t understand anyways,” Ethan cut in sarcastically.   
“My work is fairly easy to understand. It’s the process that isn’t.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve already proven what an idiot I am. I do apologize, your highness, I’m breathing too much of your air, aren’t I?”   
“There’s no need to be so rude,” Victor said, pouting.  
“Victor,” Vanessa laid a hand on his shoulder, “you felt the poor man up while talking nonsense, and then proceeded to inform everyone of your brilliance. I’m really not sure what you expected.”  
“It’s hard to know what to expect from a werewolf,” he said coldly.  
“Back on that again?” Ethan said, both fear and irritation visible in his expression. “You’re in my house.”  
“Are you going to kick me out?”   
“Are you asking me to?”  
“Boys!” Vanessa said, shaking her head with a slight smile. “I say we have a nice calm brunch and forget Victor ever mentioned anything at all. In fact,” she looked slyly at the man, “we can just pretend he isn’t here, and I came over alone.”  
Ethan took the frosted glass lid off the plate in the center of the table. “You can have whatever you like, Miss Ives. Would you like some tea?”  
“Yes, thank you very much Mr. Chandler. Have you got raspberry tea?”  
“Green and black,” he said, sorting through a metal box in his cupboard.   
“Green,” she said, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. “What a lovely house you have! So- American.”  
“I’ll have black tea,” Victor said.  
“Yes,” Ethan said, only two bags of tea on the counter next to the stove, “I miss it sometimes. But Scotland’s nice. Very pretty.”  
“No purple mountain’s majesty though,” she said with a smirk.  
“No. It’s not home.”  
“I’m from London, it’s not really home to me either,” Vanessa said, taking a delicate bite out of a scone.   
“I’m from Geneva.”  
“London! I’ve been there a few times. Lots of good places to eat. Got my favorite pie recipe in London, actually. Talked it out of the lovely lady running the place,” Ethan said with a grin.  
“Talked? Oh Mr. Chandler, I’m sure there wasn’t much talking going on.”  
“I’ve been to London too. I had to study a few things at-”  
“Well, talking sure does spice things up.”  
“Spice what up? What do you-”  
“I’m sure it does.”  
“Could talk some things out of you too, if you’d like. Or off of you.” He grinned.  
There was a knock at the door, but before anyone could stand to open it, two little girls rushed in. Piper carried a crumpled up crayon drawing in her hands skipping excitedly into the room.   
Sophie gasped, pointing at Ethan. “That’s him, that’s the wolf man! Mommy says we need to bring the blanket home, can you give it back?”


End file.
